"You went up against Curly and the Seeker?" Varric asked with an incredulous chuckle. "Your feats of bravery never cease to amaze me."
"Thanks, Varric." Dane grinned at the dwarf from across the campfire as he stood, nodding to his friend before taking his leave.
He thought back to the tense argument in the war room from the day before that Varric was so in awe of. Negotiations over Fiona's mages had not gone smoothly, by any stretch of the word. Eventually Dane had grown tired of the arguing and announced his intention to ally with the rebels.
He frowned as he traipsed through the snow away from his dwarven companion. He remembered the glare Cassandra had given him at his declaration and the way she had stormed out of the room; as clear as if she were right before him this very moment.
The Seeker had departed Haven that morning, along with Vivienne. Dane huffed, also recalling Vivienne's tirade about 'the demented Grand Enchanter and her band of malcontents.' The pair had gone to find a man by the name of Blackwall somewhere in the Hinterlands. He hadn't seen so much as a jet-black hair on Cassandra's head before she had left.
'What's the bet Vivienne is whispering in Cassandra's ear right now about kicking me out.' Dane wondered bitterly, kicking a tuft of snow in his frustration.
He raised his hand to the rustic timber of the cabin door he had come to stand in front of and knocked softly, waiting for a response.
"You may enter."
Dane stepped into the pleasant heat of the cabin, closing the door and silencing the blistering cold behind him. Solas sat comfortably in a chair next to a roaring fire. He was examining one of the mysterious shards the group had encountered in their adventures.
"Ah. How may I be of assistance, Herald?" He greeted warmly.
Dane rolled his eyes as he approached. "Not another one that doesn't know my name."
The elven man smiled and gestured toward the chair across from him. Dane obliged and sat heavily, scraping the heavy piece of furniture closer to the fire. He thrust his hands towards the roaring hearth, feeling the chill melt from his knuckles.
A few minutes of comfortable silence passed as Solas waited for Dane to share whatever was on his mind. That was something he found he relished when in Solas's company. The man had an aura of peace that seemed to radiate from his very being. 'No rushing, no demands.'
"I wondered if I might ask you a few things about my magic." Dane said slowly, entranced by the mesmerising flames.
Solas took the shard from his lap and placed it gently on a table next to him. He folded his hands in his lap and straightened slightly – interest obviously piqued.
"Of course. I overheard Dorian speak of it, in fact. A connection you have with a spirit - a wolf, if he is to be believed."
Dane glanced up from the fire and nodded, a tumble of questions suddenly spilling onto his tongue.
"That's right. He.. he's always in here. My consciousness," Dane gestured to his forehead.
"Ever since I first practiced with Dorian. Battle seems to call him into our world." He paused, thinking back to all the tomes he had studied in the circle. "But I have never heard of spirits being so tangible."
Solas nodded encouragingly as Dane continued to speak, the impatience of confusion lacing his words. "During the future I was trapped in with Dorian.. it was almost real. I could grasp his fur between my fingers; feel the heat of his breath on my skin. How could this be?"
The elven man had a pensive look on his face, his eyes fixed on his hands as he thumbed his palm in consideration.
"It certainly sounds like powerful magic." Solas said thoughtfully, returning his gaze to Dane's eyes. "Tell me of your dreams. Do you enter the Fade when you sleep?"
Dane hesitated. Memories raced into his thoughts; as swirling and dark as a summer thunderstorm. 'Cassandra laying bloody and broken, Leliana staring at me with those eyes of ice as the demon rips her throat-' he cleared his throat and stood abruptly, halfway to the door before he replied.
"Actually, nevermind. Thank you for your help."
He darted out of the door and back into the snowy hamlet before Solas could respond. He slammed the door behind him and leant against it, feeling drained. He closed his eyes and willed the awful visions to fade from his mind.
The moon was bright and imposing in the sky, but nowhere near as fearsome as the angry clouds that rolled in the heavens to the South. The Breach tainted all that it saw - the thick ice of the lake was irradiated with moonlight turned an unnatural green.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Dane jolted with surprise at the familiar voice. He hadn't heard anyone approach him along the pier, being far too absorbed in his own thoughts. He glowered at the man as he sat quietly next to him. Dorian ignored the look he was receiving and pulled the luxurious silken cloak tighter around his shoulders. The air misted with each of his steady breaths.
"Dreams of what happened?" He inquired softly. Dane turned away from the mage and stared out over the frozen landscape.
"It's better if I stay awake," He said quietly. "I don't see them then." He saw Dorian nod understandingly from the corner of his eye.
Dane thought back to their time in Redcliffe. Nightmares of the false future had haunted him each night since their return. They woke him in sweat and terror every time he drifted into uneasy slumber. He would leap from his bed and don his boots hurriedly, dashing from his cabin as if it were the centre of a raging inferno.
'No matter the weather, I have to know.' he would tell himself as he made his nightly rounds.
He had to brave the snowfall and rain a few times, but passing by Cassandra and Leliana's quarters was worth any measure of discomfort. Knowing they were safe was the only way the claws of dread would loosen their grip on his psyche. He preferred not to think of when exhaustion from his last few night vigils at the lake would make him succumb.
He turned his mind to Alexius, now rotting miserably in the dank cells beneath Haven's chantry. He had reminded the Magister's jailers not to use heavy metal shackles if they valued their life. 'I doubt a man like him would have any qualms over killing a woman', he had thought.
Dane frowned and looked over at Alexius's former pupil - truly this time. Dorian's handsome features were tense and his skin paler than usual.
"I'm sorry, Dorian."
The man himself turned his head to meet Dane's gaze; raising an elegantly groomed eyebrow.
"Whatever for?"
"Redcliffe. I just realised.. everything relied on you. If you had not managed that spell, we would all be dead." Dane shook his head in annoyance with himself.
"I was short with you, and I apologise for that," He paused a moment and let a small smile grace his lips. "Your sarcasm – I should have realised. - it's exactly what I do. It was the only thing I had back at the Circle. The Templars didn't really take to confrontation."
Dorian's eyes softened at the sincere apology and he leaned conspiratorially towards the man sitting opposite.
"How do you know I don't just have an atrocious sense of humour?"
Dane felt a chuckle bubble up from his throat and escape into the freezing air. An easy silence descended over them, warming his chest ever so slightly and letting the anxiousness of sleep dissipate from his mind. Both men stared out over the lake for some time, simply content to be in each other's presence. When the cold finally grew too much and seemed to have frozen Dane's bones, he turned.
"Want to go back to the tavern?"
A peal of Dorian's honeyed laughter rang out over the ice at the suggestion. "I thought you'd never ask. I'll even settle for some of that Fereldan backwash they call ale to be rid of this chill."
Dane grinned and stood quickly; his joints stiff from sitting in the chilly air for so long. He offered a glacial hand up. Dorian accepted and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet, a shiver racking his body as he stood. The two mages began the small trek back into the village. A quick mutter in Tevene caused a coil of orange light to manifest in Dorian's palm. He guided it into the air, letting it illuminate the snow before them as they walked.
Raucous laughter and dancing shadows were spilling out Haven's tavern as the pair arrived at the door. Dane pulled it open and ushered his companion through with a smile.
"Aren't you quite the gentleman." Dorian laughed, extinguishing the magical lantern with a snap of his fingers and stepping inside.
"Hey, look who it is boys!"
Dane looked up at the deep shout, not a moment after entering the pleasant warmth of the tavern. He smiled broadly, spotting Iron Bull and his band of misfits crowded over a table. The Qunari had a tankard as big as Dane's head in one hand and an arm around his second-in-command, Krem. The poor man looked half crushed in his grasp, but appeared happy nonetheless.
Bull stood abruptly, sloshing some of his ale on the floor as he strode over to the new patrons. He clapped a massive hand on Dane's back and beamed at Dorian. 'The next time he does that, I'm going to have to visit the healer..' Dane thought with a grimace, rubbing his neck in discomfort. If he had stayed in the cold much longer, the jovial thump from his lofty friend might have shattered him into a thousand pieces.
"Heeey, it's the mighty Lord Herald!" Sera cackled from his left. She sounded more than a little inebriated. He watched as she danced over to him, clutching a mug of amber liquid that smelled deliciously of sweetness and cinnamon. The fact that she held didn't spill a single drop of her drink, while crashing into several patrons and chairs on her way over, was not lost on him.
"What is that?" He queried, eyeing her beverage with a mixture of curiousity and envy.
"Spiced mead, dopey. You fancy some?" She slurred, jutting the mug underneath his nose.
Dane gave her a sideways look that morphed into a smirk, taking the drink from her grasp and gulping from it thirstily. Once he had drained the entirety of the mug, he handed it back to Sera. He had to bite his lips to stop the snicker in his throat as she went to take a sip. Iron Bull roared with laughter at the pout that sprouted on Sera's lips when she realised it was empty.
"I didn't say you could drink all of it, you arse!" She yelled, smacking Dane around the ears. He gave her a wicked chuckle of his own and ducked through the crowd to the bar; joining Dorian on one of the few stools left.
"So, what are we having? I'll be the first to admit I'm a bit inexperienced with this."
"Luckily for you, I'm quite the connoisseur," Dorian said with a twinkle. "Unluckily for you, we're in a small tavern in the middle of nowhere. So your options are limited to mead that'll singe your nose hairs, or ale about as strong as donkey piss." He gave a heartbroken sigh, ignoring the affronted glare from the bartender.
"Hey, not true!" Bull yelled from across the room. Both mages turned at his exclamation, mirroring expressions of surprise on their faces.
"Me and the Chargers brought our own to celebrate." He said, his tone deepening into a tempting rumble. Dane and Dorian exchanged a look and shrugged, pushing off their stools and prowling towards the Qunari's crowded table.
"What is this liquor of yours, then? Some Qunari poison that'll leave me frothing at the mouth?" Dorian asked, looking rather skeptical. He squeezed in between a very shifty looking elf and a dwarf that reeked of bitter gunpowder and woodsmoke.
"Some fancy ass brandy we relieved some Vints' off a while back, actually. Not too bad either." Bull replied, his eyes aflame with mirth. Dorian perked up considerably, a hesitant grin pulling at his lips.
"Tevinter brandy, you say? This may be a good night indeed."
Dane watched the teasing back and forth between Dorian and Bull with a contented smile as the evening went on. A comfortable heat from the various mugs of ale and mead he had consumed sat in his gut. It had spread to the very tips of his hair, and all the way down to his toes; tapping in time with the tavern bard's lute.
Sera continued to ply him with liquor whenever she appeared – a break between dancing with anyone she could nab, or on a trip back from her frequent visits to the outhouse. He had tried one serving of the brandy Bull and Dorian had raved about, and promptly flushed a deep shade of red from the burning it caused. He had skilfully avoided any more tastings of the foul liquid after that; valuing his tastebuds far too much.
The night drew to a close eventually. All of the other patrons had left some hours before. Dorian departed at the same time as Bull and his chargers a few minutes ago, arguing drunkenly with the Qunari about the best vintage of some obscure wine as he went.
Dane looked around, realising it was just him and Sera left in the mess of the tavern. Various mugs and bottles littered the room, not to mention the copious spills and knocked over pieces of furniture. He didn't envy whoever had to clean up in the morning.
"Looks like it's just me and you, Lordy." She hummed, stumbling over to where he sat with a pitcher of ale swinging wildly in her hand.
"So it is." Dane replied, accepting the proffered flagon and taking a deep swig.
"How'a you not off your face yet?" Sera grumbled, snatching back the ale when had taken a few mouthfuls; lest he drain all of her drink again. Dane shrugged with a grin, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his neck. He was the picture of smugness.
"Dunno. Guess I just have high tolerance or someth-" His boast was interrupted as he leant back too far in the chair, promptly crashing to the floor with a thunderous bang. He groaned and rubbed his head as the world spun in his eyes. Sera was laughing uproariously, holding onto the table for dear life.
"Pffffft! High tolerance, alright. High as a bloody nugs." She cried between fits of laughter. Dane groaned louder, rolling around helplessly on the ground like an upturned beetle.
"Help me up," He mumbled, reaching blindly in Sera's direction. She grabbed his hand after a moment more of giggling and pulled, only succeeding in nearly wrenching Dane's arm from the socket.
"Put your back into it, woman!" Dane grumbled, managing to sit up without keeling over. Sera took his hand once more and pulled mightily, causing him to fly straight into her and sending them both tumbling back to the ground.
"By the Maker.." Dane complained. A snort of laughter escaped him, despite spilled ale soaking his tunic and his vision spinning faster than a hurricane.
Sera cackled next to him. They exchanged a look in a sudden lull of silence. It didn't last long, as something peculiarly hilarious about their situation struck them at the same time. Their guffaws of laughter echoed into the night long after the last candle in the village had been blown out.